Monica Lewinsky Loves Me Too!
Martin Goodman
"Look, honey. You're on the wrong rap. This is New York." Ginger the independent PR whiz gulps at her carrot juice and licks the residue from her lips. "The divine mother as JFK's secret love child, that we could run with. Apparition of the Virgin Mary on the White House lawns? We could make a splash for a couple of weeks. But look what you're giving me. God on earth as a silent woman, Indian and far away."
We both look at the book's cover, an oil painting commissioned by the publisher for fear of asking the holy woman's organization for an official photo. Publishing history is littered with editors who took religious leaders as their subject matter. A Hindu spot of devotion emblazoned on the holy woman's head, she stares out a challenge with her wide brown eyes.
"Deepak Chopra makes news," I counter, remembering his recent successful law suit. "He's Indian and spiritual."
"He works at it, darling. Magnificent self-marketing, great looks and clothes, devoted organization, a spiritual health spa for the stars. Your Mother Meera's silent, you say. Hates travel. Shy in a crowd. There's no comparison."
"Deepak's met her. He flew to Germany for a private meeting."
"And?"
"He was impressed. Said she was the most ego-less person he's ever met." "Ha!" We're seated among the dark mirrors of the Grand Hyatt. She leans across the restaurant table and honks laughter in my face.
"Ego-less is so bad?"
"Let's just say there are easier ways to spell charisma."
"Madonna's been to see her."
"Another secret meeting?"
"No, she wasn't granted one."